


If I Had A Heart

by madelinek



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:00:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinek/pseuds/madelinek
Summary: After using her fire magic at the Battle of Sodden, Yennefer goes blind and portals to Istredd for help. He takes her to Ellander to heal. When Geralt shows up with his Child Surprise, Yennefer thinks it's time to move on.An adaptation of the short story 'A Shard of Ice' from Sword of Destiny set in the TV series, but with a happier ending.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Istredd/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 25
Kudos: 166





	If I Had A Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [If I had a heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477868) by [Kinailovestosleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinailovestosleep/pseuds/Kinailovestosleep)



> This story was basically an excuse for me to take my favorite dialogue from 'A Shard of Ice' and put it into the TV adaptation. Pretend this is an AU where Yennefer meets up with Geralt to train Ciri at Kaer Morhen instead of him asking Triss to do it because he's scared Yen will kick his ass. Even though the 'Dear Friend' letter was totally worth it.

Fire.

All that existed in Yennefer’s world was fire; flames as hot as the sun in the sky. They burned, burned everything in their path, until there was nothing left.

Not even herself.

As Yennefer’s screams died in her throat, as the unbearable heat finally came to a halt, there was nothing. Her face was wet, cheeks streaked with sweat, dirt, and what she knew to be blood – she recognized the smell of it well enough.

But still, she saw nothing.

Another scream tore from her chest unbidden, and the familiar pull of a portal behind her bellybutton took her away from that terrible place which reeked of death.

“Yennefer!”

Istredd. She’d know his voice anywhere, could pick it out of a thousand voices in a crowd. Yennefer would’ve laughed if she had the strength to do so. Of course she’d portaled to him. Here she was – broken, battered, helpless – as she’d been so many years ago. A girl unable to save herself.

She collapsed.

* * *

Two months had passed since Yennefer regained her sight. The process was long, agonizing. While her vision and powers were restored, there was a weakness and vulnerability lingering within her. Things she hadn’t felt since she was a child in Vengerberg.

Istredd had been nothing but caring, piecing her back together as he always had. Yennefer appreciated him more than she appreciated most. But in the two months since her recovery, he’d been tiptoeing around her. He was unnecessarily cautious, afraid she might strain herself if she exerted too much power. It did nothing for that festering weakness. She felt trapped. A bird with her wings clipped.

Two months in Ellander, where Istredd had brought her to the Temple of Melitele to heal. Nenneke and the townspeople of Ellander had plenty of work for them in the city and in the Temple, but Yennefer knew Istredd soon planned to return to Aen Gynvael to finish an excavation he’d started there. This was the first time in a while that Yennefer had remained in one place, with one person, for such a long period. She didn’t mind it all while she was healing, but now she was anxious to leave.

Yennefer jumped when Istredd entered the bedroom of his home ( _their home_ , he kept insisting, but she knew it wasn’t hers). He placed a gentle kiss in the junction of her neck and shoulder. His hands, smooth and soft, wrapped around her own. Everything was so soft with Istredd. Yennefer was starting to wonder whether he was too soft for her, with all of her rough edges.

“What’s going through that mind of yours?” Istredd asked, his voice as gentle as his touch. Her skin itched.

“You could see for yourself,” she pointed out, though she was glad he didn’t.

“Have you thought about what I asked?”

Ah, yes, of course. The other reason Yennefer was beginning to feel trapped. Istredd wished for them to stay together _permanently._ As if anything was permanent when one lived a life for hundreds of years. She sighed, pulling away from his embrace.

“No,” she lied simply, moving to look out the window and avoid those piercing gray eyes of his. They were always searching for something Yennefer knew she was unable to reciprocate fully. The streets of Ellander were bustling with activity as the afternoon turned late, people moving along their paths like ants.

“Yenna,” Istredd sighed, a chair creaking as he sat down in it, exhausted. If it irked him so, she wasn’t sure why he continued to push the matter. “We could stay together. Protect each other.”

“We’re already together,” Yennefer said plainly. “And what is it exactly that I need protecting from?”

Istredd remained silent and Yennefer laughed scathingly.

“You think me weak now.”

“You lost your eyes!” Istredd said furiously. “Fringilla could be out there looking for you, a Nilfgaardian army at her back.”

“I walked into that battle, ready to die. I gave _everything_ , but I’m still alive.”

“You’re not invincible.”

“I’m not fragile, either,” Yennefer replied hotly.

“And had you not come here?”

“Tissaia would have helped me.”

“Yet you came to me.”

“So I did,” she agreed. “Is that not enough?”

“Not anymore,” Istredd admitted sourly, bringing a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose. “What are we doing? Do you expect me to not understand this – this thing between us?”

“You’re not trying to understand it. You’re trying to force your need for stability on me. Again.”

A head of white hair caught Yennefer’s eye in the crowd below.

_No. It can’t be._

Yennefer brought her palms to the window, pressing herself closer. Her eyes did not deceive her. Geralt of Rivia walked his horse through the streets, clearly returning from the outskirts of town.

_He must be coming to see Nenneke. Does he know I’m here?_

It was then she noticed a small girl trailing so closely behind his hulking form that she was practically stepping on his heels. Her hair was long and blonde, bearing a striking resemblance to the witcher’s.

_The Child Surprise._

It had to be. Yennefer had never known Geralt to travel with companions, apart from the occasional presence of his loud-mouthed bard Jaskier. He _especially_ never traveled with children.

Yennefer retreated from the window quickly. She needed to catch him before he left Ellander. When she passed Istredd, his hand flew out to grab her wrist.

“Where are you going?” he asked angrily.

“Am I not allowed _any_ time to myself?” she inquired coolly, allowing their tiff to cover up her sudden exit. Istredd seemed to accept her hostility readily. He threw her hand away like it had burned him.

“Whatever pleases you, Yennefer. Though I’m not sure even _you_ know what that is anymore.”

Yennefer’s pride rankled her to make a cutting remark, but her consuming desire to stop Geralt before he left town won over her need for pettiness.

* * *

There were only two inns in Ellander. Yennefer started at the more reputable of the two. Geralt may not sacrifice coin for his own comfort, but Yennefer imagined he might for his Child Surprise. When she walked in, however, she didn’t see the two heads of light hair she searched for.

“The witcher,” Yennefer addressed the innkeep behind the bar without preamble. “He booked a room here?”

“A witcher, was he?” The innkeeper croaked. “Makes sense. Awfully strange-looking, that one.”

“Which room?”

“Not sure it’s quite right, coughing up my guests’ rooms to anyone who comes asking.”

“You know who I am,” said Yennefer flatly. “I could just read your mind.”

The innkeeper stuttered out the direction of Geralt’s room, muttering about crazy witches running the town as she turned away. Yennefer ignored him, anticipation building in her so intensely that she was vibrating with it.

She approached the door that was to be their room, knowing it was more than likely the witcher would hear her footsteps on the creaking wood even from inside. Yennefer couldn’t hear anything, stillness indicating sleep or extreme caution not to be overheard. She paused in front of the door for a moment, debating what she intended to say to Geralt when he opened it. They hadn’t seen each other since hunting the dragon in Kovir.

Yennefer didn’t get a chance to decide. The door pulled back a fraction, yellow eyes and white hair greeting her with an uncertain twist to her stomach.

“Yennefer.”

His deep voice uttering her name had Yennefer repressing a shiver. He did not sound surprised to see her.

“Geralt.” She scanned him head to toe, checking for any new injuries or scars she wouldn’t have seen from Istredd’s window. “You knew it was me.”

Geralt’s face didn’t change, but she suspected the essence of a smile there.

“Your perfume’s the same.” To Yennefer’s surprise, he stepped back, granting her entry to the room. She accepted his unspoken invitation, scanning the space once he'd closed the door behind them. The girl appeared to be sleeping on one of the two single beds, her back to the door.

“You decided to claim your destiny,” Yennefer remarked. She tried her best to keep her voice free of judgment as she turned to face him. He was as unforgivably beautiful as she remembered.

He hummed his usual response before speaking. “What are you doing here?”

_Well, you see, I fought in a battle I’m not sure was mine to fight, killed hundreds in a wave of fire, almost died and went blind in the process, portaled to my ex-lover in a panic, let him heal me, and have been trapped with him out of guilt ever since._

_No, don’t tell him that. He’ll think you weak, like Istredd._

_Not Geralt. Geralt may have done many things, but he never underestimated your power._

Geralt observed her internal debate, awaiting her answer, never filling her silence with his own thoughts. He gave her room to think.

He always had.

_I’ve been a fool._

“That Battle of Sodden,” she explained finally. “I was… injured.”

Geralt’s brow furrowed in concern, something akin to guilt flashing across his features.

“Sodden? I was – we were so close. I found her in a forest nearby.” He was suddenly assessing her with his eyes. “Injured? Are you alright?”

“Fine now,” Yennefer replied, struggling to sound unaffected by the memory of living in total darkness. “I used an incredible amount of power. Fire magic. It didn’t come without consequences.”

“The fire,” he realized. “There was smoke, burnt flesh in the air for days. That was you?”

Yennefer nodded tightly.

“Magic like that has a cost,” she continued. “I lost my sight for two months.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology was loaded, more than sympathy for her temporary blindness. “You came to the Temple of Melitele to heal?”

Yes, _that_ part of the story.

“I got stabbed. I was blind, barely had any power left in me. I portaled to a friend.”

Geralt could read between the lines. He averted his piercing gaze.

“A lover?”

Yennefer was shocked he had the audacity to ask.

“Yes. We’ve known each other a long time. Before…”

Before their – whatever she and Geralt were. Before her transformation. Before she was the formidable sorceress she was today.

Geralt said nothing, but Yennefer could see a gleam of jealousy in his unnatural eyes. It stirred a familiar warmth in her.

“Bringing her to Nenneke?” Her eyes flitted over the girl’s resting form. Geralt looked back at her briefly.

“I thought I would on our way out, but I think she should stay at Kaer Morhen for a while. To keep her safe, train her… it seemed the best option, until this mess with Nilfgaard calms down.”

“Is she in danger?”

“Yes,” Geralt sighed, as though he’d been waiting to unburden this on someone other than his own conscience. “Nilfgaard is searching for her.”

Yennefer’s heart froze, memories of Nilfgaardian cruelty and power washing over her in a wave.

“Why?”

Geralt paused, considering his answer. He apparently deemed Yennefer worthy.

“She is Queen Calanthe’s granddaughter.”

“Of Cintra?”

_Well, well. Leave it to Geralt to gain a princess for a child._

Geralt grunted. “It’s not just about politics. I knew her mother. She exhibited… immense magical power, even uncontrollable at times. I believe it’s been passed down to Ciri.”

_Ciri._

“What makes you think that?”

“She’s told me of various situations where she’s lost control, injured people that were a threat. I know Nenneke could help her with that, but I don’t know if Nilfgaard has eyes in Ellander. I trust Nenneke with my life – others, not so much. Staying here long-term seems risky. At least I know she’ll be safe at Kaer Morhen.”

Yennefer had never considered teaching another sorceress; apart from that short time she’d spent at Aretuza before Sodden. However, as she watched Geralt’s face pinch with worry at the prospect of raising a magical child on his own, Yennefer felt a strong urge to help him.

“I could help. Try to teach her to control her magic.”

Geralt’s head snapped up at her offer.

“What about…” he trailed off.

“Istredd. His name is Istredd.” Yennefer moved towards the vacant bed and took a seat. They’d been standing awkwardly at the door since she entered. Geralt followed, tentatively taking up the space to her right. Their shoulders brushed. The bed squeaked with his bulk. “I’ve felt… stuck here for some time now. I think it’s best if I moved on.”

Once again, Geralt heard the words she didn’t say.

“You want to leave him. Wanted to before you knew I was here.”

“I’ve known him for years,” said Yennefer, unsure why she felt the need to explain herself to him. “He’s very dear to me. He took care of me when I couldn’t see, brought me here. But—” she exhaled through her nose. “He wants me to stay with him. Permanently.”

Silence ensued.

“A proposal,” Geralt confirmed. “Are you considering accepting?”

“He loves me… I think. Despite that, I can’t stay,” she admitted aloud for the first time. She looked over at Geralt, who was studying her intently. “You know I can’t.”

She knew that answer pleased him, because a rare smile appeared on the witcher’s face. It was gone just as quickly.

“You would come with us? With me?” Geralt questioned. “After the way we left things…”

“Did you wish for me to love you?” Yennefer asked bluntly.

“No.”

She mirrored Borch’s words, “That you did not want to lose me?”

“No. I didn’t want you to die, Yen. I thought if our fates were tied together, as long as I lived, you would, too. I was right.” He shook his head. “I never wished to tie anyone to me, to this life. A witcher never dies peacefully in his bed.”

Yennefer chuckled.

“And sorceresses? Sorcerers? Do they often die peacefully in their beds?”

Geralt grunted. “At the very least, you could summon one as you took your dying breath.”

They both laughed at that. Their gazes met again, and Yennefer felt their last few years of history settle over her like a warm blanket. She may have known Istredd longer, but what she felt with Geralt was something different.

“Do you love him?”

Yennefer twitched at his inquiry.

“I’m incapable of it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the only word you’ve never told me, Geralt. What do you feel?”

“For Istredd?”

She glared at him. He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“I was sad when I lost you. But I’m a mutant. Witchers aren’t supposed to feel anything.”

“I can’t stand it when you talk like that,” Yennefer reprimanded sharply. “I hate when you use that word. Don’t call yourself that.”

“Does it change the fact? I _am_ a mutant, after all.”

“There is no _fact_. Don’t use that word in front of me.”

When others – and Geralt himself – referred to him as a mutant, Yennefer hated it. She hated the way society treated him. It reminded her too much of her own childhood.

“I was stripped of feelings,” Geralt started again after a minute. “But not entirely. Whoever did it made a botch of it, Yen.”

“You aren’t bereft of feeling,” Yennefer said softly. “You wouldn’t have taken that girl in if you were.”

She took his hand in hers. He entwined their fingers.

“I don’t know how to raise a child.”

“I don’t either. According to you, I’d be a bad mother.”

Geralt frowned deeply.

“I didn’t mean it. Not that way. But I’m sorry, nonetheless. Forgive me.”

Any time Geralt and Yennefer reunited, they were magnetic, an unseen force pulling them together. This time was no different. Who leaned in first, Yennefer did not know, but their lips collided in a searing kiss. Geralt wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in close.

“Ah, so _this_ is Yennefer.”

The witcher and sorceress jumped apart quickly at the sound of Ciri’s voice. Geralt didn’t blush – probably _couldn’t_ if Yennefer had to guess – but she imagined he would be now if it were possible.

“Ciri, this is Yennefer,” Geralt introduced after clearing his throat. “Yennefer, this is Cirilla.”

The blonde’s nose wrinkled.

“I prefer Ciri.”

Yennefer stopped her lips from twitching into a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Ciri.”

The young girl scrutinized her. Then, “You’re very beautiful.”

“Yennefer is going to help us,” Geralt interjected before Yennefer could respond. “Well, help you. She can train you to better control your magic.”

Ciri’s eyes widened. “Really? You’re coming with us to Kaer Morhen?”

Yennefer looked back at Geralt, who was looking at her nearly as expectantly as Ciri. “Yes, that’s my plan.” She stood from the bed. “I have some business to take care of first.”

Geralt stood to join Yennefer. “Ciri, stay in here. I’m going to walk Yennefer downstairs. Don’t answer the door and stay quiet if anyone comes knocking.”

“So you can kiss some more?” Ciri mumbled under her breath, plopping back down onto the mattress once more. Geralt pretended not to hear her prodding, ushering Yennefer out the door with a hand on her lower back.

“You wish to speak with me?”

Geralt hummed.

“You don’t have to come with us. If you want to stay with Istredd, I understand. I won’t stand in your way.”

Yennefer laughed. “If you were in my way, I’d simply be rid of you, Geralt.” She turned to face him when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “You’re… important to me.”

A ghost of a smile crept onto Geralt’s lips as she called upon his words from so long ago. Then, with a sarcasm they’d come to expect from one another, “Was it very hard for you to admit that?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Geralt grabbed her wrist, his rough and calloused hands scratching her skin. _Rough like her edges._ He paid no mind to the few people drinking around the inn.

“You’re important to me, too. But you already knew that.”

Yennefer averted her eyes, sheepish about the blissful smile that suddenly made its way onto her face. What she had with Geralt was complicated, but it always set her alight. Let her know she was _alive_.

When they stepped out of the inn and onto the bustling roads of Ellander, the sky was darkening rapidly as the sun dipped below the horizon. They walked around the corner and into the shadows in an attempt to shield themselves from the rest of the world. Facing each other, Yennefer gave in to that magnetic pull, letting her arms settle around Geralt’s waist.

“I know what you have to do,” said Geralt lowly, his forehead leaning down to brush hers. “But if things don’t go well…”

“I can protect myself, and Istredd would never hurt me,” Yennefer defended her soon-to-be-ex-lover, despite what she was about to do to him. “But it’s nice to know I’ll have a warm bed to sleep in later.”

She brought her lips up to Geralt’s, drinking him in more fully than she had in his room. Whatever shields and barriers had been there before, they remained no longer. When they broke the kiss, Yennefer looked into his eyes. Though she knew he didn’t have an answer, she asked the question anyway.

“What are the chances that our paths would cross here, now?”

Geralt shook his head, white hair falling to frame his face. “People linked by destiny will always find each other, so I’ve learned.”

He leaned down to kiss her one last time with a gentleness that still managed to surprise Yennefer, no matter how many times she’d been subject to it. Too soon, they parted. Yennefer looked back at him one last time before continuing down the path to Istredd’s home.

* * *

Yennefer hoped that Istredd would have gone out to clear his mind after their quarrel and allow her more time to find the right words to say to him. Luck was not on her side. Istredd stood at the window much like she had been earlier when they fought. She’d barely made it into the room before he spoke.

“Geralt of Rivia. Or the White Wolf, as so many call him.” Istredd did not turn to look at her. “I heard stories, you know. Of a dark-haired sorceress and her love affair with the White Wolf. I should have expected that it would be you to seduce the most notorious witcher on the Continent.”

Yennefer moved further into the room, approaching Istredd as one might approach an untamed animal. “I wouldn’t trust every story the bards sing. They like to embellish the details.”

Istredd finally turned swiftly on his heel, his eyes boring into Yennefer.

“So, you deny it? It was simply another woman hidden in the shadows, kissing a white-haired witcher?”

His face was screwed up in a mixture of anger and betrayal. Yennefer sighed, guilt finally seeping in at that last stolen moment of affection. Guilt – but not regret. Istredd chuckled bitterly.

“As I thought.” He crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off from her. “You called for him in your sleep, after you first portaled to me. You called for a Geralt.” He swept a hand over his face in frustration. “I didn’t put the pieces together soon enough. Stupid of me.”

“I have to leave with him,” Yennefer said quickly, like one would rip a bandage from a scabbing wound. Istredd made that bitter sound a second time.

“This is just a momentary infatuation for you, Yenna. As it so often is.”

Annoyance flared within her.

“I’ve known Geralt for nearly 10 years, Istredd.”

“You’ve never spoken of him once. And you know as well as I do that 10 years is nothing in our lifetimes.”

“I don’t make a habit of discussing my other lovers with you.”

“Even if he’s more than just your plaything,” Istredd spat, “witchers feel no emotion whatsoever, Yennefer. What he feels for you – if anything – is only a reflection of your own emotions, of the interest you show in him. Nothing more than cellular memory.”

“That’s not true,” Yennefer denied angrily. “You don’t know him.”

“He’s a mutant,” stated Istredd. “A main feature of his mutation is that he’s completely insensible to emotion so he can do his job. Don’t you understand? He doesn’t feel anything.”

“Don’t use that word!” Yennefer nearly yelled. Shocked at her own volume, she lowered her tone before she spoke again. “He isn’t insensible to emotion, as you say.”

“Believe what you want.”

They were at an impasse.

“He needs my help, and it’s time for me to leave this place.”

“Your help?” Istredd asked incredulously. “What does a witcher want with a sorceress?”

“He has a… young ward. She needs help controlling her power.”

“A child,” Istredd laughed, sounding tired. “Naturally. Will it always come back to this with you?”

“This is not about the choice I’ve had stripped from me,” Yennefer hissed. “This is about a girl in danger who needs my help.”

_If only Tissaia could see her now._

“Send her to Aretuza!”

“It’s not an option.”

“Don’t let him fool you.”

“Have you known me to be a fool?” Yennefer’s eyes flashed. “You should know that better than anyone, Istredd. I am no fool – and I will not be manipulated to do another’s bidding.”

Silence echoed.

“He has no right to take you from me,” Istredd said after some time. Yennefer scoffed.

“It’s not up to him. The choice is mine.” She looked down at her fingernails, only just growing back to their full length after Sodden. Her hands were charred for weeks. “But he does have the right. It’s not why I’m going with him, but even if I chose to stay here with you, I would not be rid of him. Our paths would cross again.”

“For what reason?”

Yennefer hadn’t intended to tell Istredd the story of the djinn, of Geralt’s last wish. She’d never shared that story with anyone. But she felt Istredd needed – no, deserved – to know the truth.

“We’re connected by fate, Geralt and I.” She ran her hands through her curls, smoothing out imaginary tangles to give her fidgety limbs something to do.

“Fate?” Istredd was skeptical.

“There was a djinn, when we met in Rinde. I tried to tame it, hoping…”

“It would grant your greatest wish,” Istredd finished for her. “Yet you’re still barren, Yennefer.”

“If you would let me finish,” she bit out, finding it harder to restrain her annoyance. “Geralt released the djinn accidentally. He became its master.”

Realization dawned on Istredd’s face.

“What you feel for him – it’s the djinn’s magic?”

The sorcerer made the same assumption Yennefer herself had made in the mountains of Kovir when Borch revealed Geralt’s final wish.

“He bound our fates together – nothing more. I tried to capture the djinn, thinking it was free from its master. My power was waning while the djinn grew stronger. He had one last wish and knew that once he made it, the djinn would likely kill me.” She closed her eyes, imagining that day in her mind. Geralt’s hair blowing with the force of power, asking her what she wanted. Forfeiting his last wish to her. “He made it so the djinn would have no choice but to keep me alive in order to grant his wish. As long as my fate was bound with his, the djinn had to leave me be.”

Istredd looked resigned. “And you’ve tested this? Know it to be true?”

“The djinn keeping me alive was enough. But yes, time and again, we’ve met along the path with no intention of seeing each other again. Some moments significant, others less so.”

“I meant – you’re certain he did not wish you to feel things you do not feel naturally for him?”

“You’re asking if he wished for me to fall in love with him,” Yennefer deciphered from his vague questioning. “I thought the same, at first. But now I’m sure.” She met Istredd’s gaze. “There was… something, before that final wish. Only solidified by each time we met afterward.”

“And me? The bond we have?” He let his arms fall to his sides, striding closer to where she stood. “It means nothing in the shadow of fate? Of your destiny with this… man?”

His hand raised to cup her cheek.

“I can’t explain it, Istredd. But he’s bound to that girl by destiny.” She searched his gray eyes. “Is there not some meaning, some greater purpose to that? Two people, unable to have children yet bound together by fate, and one of them gains a child?”

Istredd’s hand dropped. “Regardless of what I think, it’s clear you’ve made up your mind.”

“I’m sorry, Istredd,” Yennefer apologized, more genuinely than she ever had in her life. “You’ve taken care of me when I needed it most. But you knew I couldn’t stay. Something more calls to me. It always has.”

“I thought your brush with mortality might change that,” Istredd accepted forlornly.

“You didn’t know me as well as you thought, then.”

“Perhaps not.”

Yennefer embraced the older sorcerer, her mentor and lover. He returned it limply.

“Stay safe, Yennefer,” he murmured against the shell of her ear. “I don’t think I can piece you back together again.”

* * *

Yennefer slipped back into Geralt’s room as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake the witcher or his child. She soon discovered that Geralt was still wide awake, staring at the ceiling from his pillow. His eyes snapped over to her when she entered, hoisting himself up to rest on his elbows.

_Sleep eludes him still._

“Waiting up for me?” Yennefer teased. Geralt frowned.

“I was worried.”

“You needn’t be,” she soothed, removing her boots at the door so as not to make any sound as she crossed the distance to his bed. It was small, his giant body taking up every inch of space it had to offer. She rested a knee next to his thigh, leaning down to greet him with a kiss which he reluctantly returned. “I told you, Istredd would never hurt me.”

“Men often act out of character after having their hearts broken.”

“Speaking from experience?”

His eyes glowed even in the darkness, but he said nothing. Yennefer took his hand between hers, feeling the tingling and pulsing of blood in his veins in her own forearm. Geralt watched in fascination as the bed extended its width so that Yennefer could slide in next to him. He went flat on his back again, chuckling when she draped herself over him.

“What, did you think I would sleep on the floor?”

“Your power never ceases to amaze me. It makes my signs look silly in comparison.”

Yennefer felt a warmth bloom behind her breastbone at his words of praise.

_See? He’s never thought of you as weak._

His large hand cupped her jaw, bringing her face to meet his once more. Yennefer smiled against his lips. “Thank you. For choosing us.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she needled playfully. “We’ve never shared a living space for more than a few days.”

Geralt peppered kisses on her jawline, down her neck. She shoved his face away – despite the goosebumps erupting on her flesh and desire unfurling in her belly at his touch.

“Reunion can come later, when your child is not sleeping in the bed next to us.”

He pulled back abruptly, though not at her chastising. Yennefer could tell the term ‘your child’ had thrown him. She let her fingers caress his cheek.

“She is yours now, you know.”

“And you?”

“Am I yours?”

“Hmm.”

“I belong to no one, Geralt. Not since I was a child.” She traced a scar near the crease of his left eye. “But I suppose you may have some claim to me.”

That rare sparkling smile appeared, and Yennefer couldn’t help but return it. She vanished her day dress, appropriate sleeping attire taking its place in a flash. Turning onto her side, Geralt’s arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her back flush against his chest. She felt him breathe her in, his nose buried in her hair. Yennefer let her hands brush over his forearms lightly.

“I missed you,” his voice rumbled against her neck. She recognized sleepiness in it.

Once his breathing evened out in a way that belied sleep, Yennefer let her own eyes flutter closed. She felt more at peace than she had in quite a while. As she succumbed to her own slumber, she knew.

Something more awaited them.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Witcher fic! I've read the books and seen the TV series (only played Wild Hunt out of all the games) and I love this universe so much. This story may have been a little fluffy, rambling on and MAYBE slightly OOC (Yennefer was reaaaallllyyy nice) but I'm tired of looking at it so here have it and hope it gives you some enjoyment.


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